


Taste of the Dragon

by imirel



Category: Dragaera - Steven Brust
Genre: BDSM Scene, Dark Fantasy, F/M, Fantasy, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 19:16:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3458750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imirel/pseuds/imirel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He visits her every month just to let her live forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taste of the Dragon

Today is my day. Dragaerian month contains seventeen days, so the second is mine as usual. She always has rest on the first day of the month - while Fenix holds The Regnum, there's no place for Fenix at her Castle. Dzur is also skipped because she represents Dzur herself. That's why she starts the month with me.

I always come here guided by my own will and feel no doubt she can teleport me without any permission if I'm a bit late. I prefer to believe that she treats me at least a bit special. But I can't be just absolutely confident if it refers to her.

Sometimes I feel I hate her.

She stands up when I appear. I'm tall enough but she's not much shorter. Her eyes are those I'm afraid to look into - their blackness seems empty and exhausting. You know, I'm fond of black but her eyes frighten me. There are not so many things that I'm so really scared of - like her eyes.

Guests are seldom at her Castle and I hope they never guess what this ring twisted in the wall of her drawing room is needed for. I know - my wrists still can feel the cold of steel cuffs that hold my hands attached to this ring. It's only me who knows why the black stucco is marked with that slightly shining spot - just because of my broken breath that reaches it. I do not want to think that these fetters may touch someone except me - her Castle is huge, probably there are some other places intended for other fourteen. Fourteen more? Is that envy or not? Have I really told I hated her?

There are no warmth in her breathe that touches my neck. It doesn't burn but shiver runs down by my backbone. Her large palms are cool but my skin feels hot because of their touch. She always gives me something from the goblet made of dark glass - I don't know what is it but it smells rosemary a bit.

When she brings the goblet close to my lips she always touches them accidentally - so I can feel her nails, icy and smooth. The broth makes my thoughts to blur, I cease feeling time and space, sounds seem ghostly excepting the only one - when she takes dagger off from its scabbard.

I would like to believe that this dagger is being used for me only. And also I feel sure that the broth she gives to me causes pain to relieve - although a Dragon contour on my back has already been healed since my last visit. Edge of the dagger slides down by a fine-drawn scar, through a haze covered my foggy mind I realize how the hot drops run down by my skin. It feels not really painful - I have used to it already.

She always starts from a tail - I don't know why. The tail, the body, short wings, the long neck, the head. I can nearly hear her sigh when she starts licking my blood off the dagger blade and I wait impatiently till her lips start touching my burning back.

She is always cold that grants me a relief - her tongue and lips are felt like pieces of ice that glides along my skin and almost take my burning pain off. My palms shrink above the fetters - this torment always quickly becomes a sophisticated caress that only she is able to give. Her large palms touch my breast and lips gather warm streams off my back. She drinks till she is completely full with my blood and groans. It lasts eternally but every time finishes so fast.

I hate her for it.

So it was always like this, as many years go by. But today she suddenly asked me when I have limply slacked down in my cuffs.

"Morrolan, I don't like the taste. What's up with you?"

I exhaled convulsively, trying to find my voice again deep inside the squeezed throat:

"You should ask Vlad about it. Those vial was his by the way."

" Really? That's strange", she said quietly like she forgot about me for a moment, "But he told he had lost it."

"Sorry, what?", I wheezed.

"Nothing, Morrolan. I need to find another Dragon. I'm afraid that you are happy, aren't you?"

I didn't know if I was happy or not. More likely "no" than "yes".

There were fourteen of us, fourteen Lords from different Houses of Empire. We gave our blood to Sethra Lavode, each one in his specially allocated day - to let her live forever.

I'm not one of them anymore.

I hate you, Easterner.


End file.
